


Salvo Onslaught: Continuing to Exist: The Simulated Contest

by NoOnionSaladJustPommesAWAYYYY



Category: Technoblade - Fandom
Genre: (contains swearing), Blitz Survival Games AU, Christianity, Hypothermia, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, RIP Techno/Stalin, Spatially based off MCU2 arena bc I think it would be funny, Why Juan WHY??????, angst & fluff, i started writing bill nye/yoda and ended up shipping it??/
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOnionSaladJustPommesAWAYYYY/pseuds/NoOnionSaladJustPommesAWAYYYY
Summary: A tale of love, loss, and tactical strategy. There's no Technoblade/Abraham Lincoln on this site and I am fixing that with my own noisy keyboard. It's canon bc the Love Calculator said so and the Love Calculator is always right. Based on the Canon, which is A Mess.
Relationships: Technoblade/Abraham Lincoln
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Okay, that was a Start....

**Author's Note:**

> I based this a little off MCU2 in terms of geography. Started it at like 11pm at night and I had to stop at like 3am to not obliterate my sleep schedule so I took a break for a day to get rid of extra tabs so I could get back to watching

It was the final moments before the Ultimate Hunger Games began, and Technoblade could not feel more bored. He was standing on his little platform, trying to move at first yet glitching in place. He represented District 6 along with Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, who was glitching along beside him just a few blocks away.

Technoblade's hot elbows twinged with anxiety and he adjusted his crown on his head so it protected his pink ears from the sun. He made oogly eyes at Stalin, who was barely within his sights on another platform. Goddamn that mustache was handsome.

The timer ticked down to zero and everyone was released from their glitchy, invisible prisons into the fresh hell of the survival games arena.

Technoblade avoided the bloodbath at Cornucopia and ran along the trees, trying to find a chest route. The screams of Literally Canada echoed from the Cornucopia. Eventually, Techno's familiarity from several thousand lifetimes' worth of chest routes kicked in and he found a chest below the roots of a tree. He furtively opened it, snatching away a water bottle and using his speed ability to avoid teamers. He'd seen the shifty looks from President Nixon, Juan, the French language, and Literally Canada and didn't wanna mess with _that_.

A lightning bolt crackles through the arena, alerting everyone to the death of King Menelik II, who had just arrived at the lobby of a futuristic parkour race. His fans, high school students who had written history reports about him, all cried because now they needed to rewrite their papers. In the distance, Bidoof licks the blood from its paws. Although King Menelik II of Ethiopia was renowned for his tactical planning, his strat fell through when he only had ONE enemy to deal with.

 _You can't pit me against myself, old fool._ Bidoof thought, a sinister gleam appearing in one eye.

Fifty blocks away, the object of Technoblade's unrequited affections, Stalin, stumbled across the most bizarre conversation he's ever heard in his entire life. Not even taking over the USSR could have prepared him to hear:

"I am the most smartes person ..in this ENTIRE Hunger Games. There's nobody here who's better at it than me."

"Hmf! Survive you shall not..... for wisdom you lack."

"What are you talking about? You don't believe in me! That's fake news. Don't trust the media! They are liars and snakes. I'm gonna build myself a huge wall and I'm gonna shoot whoever comes and be the last one alive. That's what makes you a winner."

"Ambition you have. Protect you not, walls and guns shall. Win- without food! you cannot." The tiny green muppet shook his finger at the wrinkled hairy orange. He moseyed slowly over to a carton of food and picked it up with The Force to waggle it above Donald's head. Stalin held his breath and leaned forwards in the bushes to watch Donald fail to grab the food with his tiny hands.

"No! Give it back! That's mine!" Donald screamed, picking up a stick and whacking at Yoda with it. The only thing he hit, however, was air because the tiny Jedi Master had enough with his childish antics and had vanished. The empty food wrapper floated to the ground...

Stalin stroked his huge, sexy mustache in an attempt to comprehend what the _fuck_ just happened.

One magical box floated down from the sponsors into the waiting hands of Her Majesty the Queen. Its contents had been crowdfunded by the Whole of New Zealand and the handle was made with endangered Kauri wood. How the fuck did anyone manage to make an axe handle out of an endangered tree. Maybe it was squirreled away before the Kauri became protected. Maybe it's Maybelline. The world may never know.

The blade, on the other hand, was an ornate gold, flaunting extreme wealth yet yielding low attack damage. The Queen hefted it effortlessly as she had been toting gold items around her entire life.

Several magical boxes drifted down towards Bill Nye the Science Guy, who turned towards the nearest camera. "Please join me on Consider the Following....." He left the eager schoolchildren sweating in suspense while he rummaged around, unpacking several boxes' worth of dynamite. Would they be quizzed on this later? Probably.

That night, Dumbledore huddled miserably in the cold because he didn't know basic Muggle survival skills like starting a fire. He also couldn't delegate any of these tasks to his subordinates or wroshippers. Everyone who ever liked him was all the way in District 6..... how he longed to be praised to Mars and back for being a lazy old man.

He had no physics training and remained ignorant of the concepts like "heat," "temperature," and "friction." He could identify every single magical ingredient for a potion but no idea what flint or steel looked like.

The purple creeping up his fingers and toes can be considered a form of retribution.

Of course, it also didn't help that he'd chosen to rest on the coldest thing in the arena that wasn't ice, i.e. a giant rock as cold as the ground around it because while heat rises, COLD SINKS AT THE SAME TIME. It's one of the Basic Laws of Thermodynamics. Don't ask me which one.

Anyways, my friends, foes, acquaintences and enemies, this is the Wizarding World's genius.

After having napped on her platform the whole day, Michelle Obama woke up and found she hadn't depression-napped into the next day. Her regret over waking up too early was only overshadowed by her fear of the dark, so she cried until she couldn't see it anymore. Problem solved.

Bill Nye, who was just interrupted during his REM sleep stage by three more magic boxes' worth of explosives, grumbled and started lecturing the audience about the dangers of sleep deprivation. Everyone watching was ashamed but stays up late anyways to watch the rest of the contestants.

Every Speleologist VIII tried to offer Bidoof shelter on a cold night, but Bidoof disdained most of their pitiful attemps to placate... until one particularly idiotic Speleologist VIII opened up their leather chest armor, offering to cuddle for the night.

Bidoof silently judged that Speleologist VIII for 40 seconds until sighing and climbing up. If worst came to worst, Bidoof already didn't have to deal with 1 layer of armor. All the vital organs were right there. This was, strategically speaking, a Win.

Technoblade, weary after a day's worth of attempting to find loot chests, collapsed in despair. His pig ears could no longer keep his crown on his head as he rested his forehead on the ground hungrily. He's too tired and cold to go on. He blacked out until vaguely hearing a rustling in the bush nearby. Footsteps approach. He lifted his head blearily. He had no weapon. No Food. His water bottle was barely enough to protect his miserable life from the forest squirrels. He can't go on like this.

"Please...... end me now........ spare me from my eternal torment..." his voice rasped, parched. He saw a man with a long, black beard wearing a top hat and blinks. Is this what hell is supposed to feel like? Technoblade doesn't know.

"For scores years we have turned against our fellow men, for reasons regarding the color of their skin. I find that unjust, such conduct unseemly. For it is when we are united in heart, soul, and spirit, that we as a nation can find peace and prosperity."

He crouched down, staring into Technoblade's black, emotionless eyes. "Despair not, ye of pink skin. For it is beneath my station to kill such a promising youth such as yourself. Ye see it not, that spark of hope in your eyes circling like a comet. But it is there nonetheless! You beseech me to kill you, you forlornly contemplate your end when you are but a tender piglet. The time is not yet ripe for you to mature into the ferocious boar, but perchance it is nigh."

Technoblade stared endlessly into these soft amber eyes full of hope and couldn't find the strength to keep begging this handsome man to end him. "Yeah." he replied, struggling to sit up. Every movement was more painful than the last, but his stone will persevered. A steady arm helped him up, brushed off the dirt on his fluffy red king's robe, picked up his beweled crown. Technoblade's emotionless eyes glinted with some foreign emotion... was that hope?

" _'Perchance'_."


	2. Dawn of the 2ND Day. Who knows how many fuckign hours remain. Not me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story documents my descent into insanity over rewatching the source video so many times. If you don't ship Bill Nye/Yoda that's okay, I didn't either before writing this. Last chapter I forgot who killed King Menelik II and wrongly attributed that to Bidoof. But we're rolling with it now bc foreshadowing. Don't like don't read
> 
> this is as much as i had written minus the half-sentence i left off on so i'll probably add more later once i am capable of forming coherent sentences. you've waited 5 months for this you deserve early access content

The night was cold. Technoblade could feel that much. For some strange reason, he was warm though. He could clearly feel his warm red robe wrapped around his body, but why weren't his toes freezing too? Too tired to change his situation, Technoblade relaxed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

He dreamed too much when he was awake, after all.

Abraham Lincoln smiled at the sleeping Technoblade's elbows. He stirred the fire he'd started and sparks flew up into his face, so he got up and moved around to Technoblade's side of the fire. He patiently tucked his blanket around Technoblade when he thrashed around in his sleep.

Abraham Lincoln had many rhetorical and oratory skills, but he was born on the frontier so that's where his basic skills lay. He reclined by Technoblade's side, closing his eyes and keeping his ears alert for approaching people.

A phantasmagoria of wings, eyes, and wheels appeared in a blaze of holy light before Pope Francis to bestow a normal chest filled with fresh fruit upon him. Was that a sponsor? Was that an angel? Was that a spider fused with a parrot in a wagon???? The truth is, we just don't know. Pope Francis recited blessings to thank his sponsors. "And bless Kevin as well, for he is far too used to getting kidnapped by the Cat Mafia," Pope Francis concluded, crossing his chest. "Amen."

Blocks away, by starlit rocky caves, Bill Nye launched himself into the air using TNT and fell on Yoda, critting him out with more sticks of TNT until the muppet fell to the ground facedown. Bill Nye grabbed the back of Yoda's clothes at his neck, keeping the old sage's head above the ground. He held one of Yoda's arms behind his back and put a knee's weight on it.

"In battle, you should never retreat to familiar terrain," Bill Nye growled in Yoda's ear. "It was far too obvious where you were going."

"Sometimes..... " Yoda blinked slowly, losing his train of thought. Bill Nye yanked his head backwards to break him out of his wishful thinking.

" _ Sometimes, _ what you need to do to win is seek out new terrain and use it to your advantage. You Jedi are supposed to adapt to new surroundings." Sucking in a cold breath, Bill Nye calmed himself down. "So why were you going for the most obvious hiding spot?"

"Home....." Yoda murmured, blinking again. His feeble hand lifted up again, shaking,  _ yearning _ for a solitary home on Dagobah with its tree cave hut and random swamp monsters vibing alongside him.

Bill Nye threw Yoda facedown into the mud to stomp his hand into the dirt.

"The only reason you are still alive, is for you to use the scientific method. Learn from your mistakes." He trod on Yoda's back one last time for good measure, and disappeared into the caves for the night. It was time for some early AM spelunking.

Bidoof was awakened early the next morning by the rest of the Speleologist VIII's voices nearby. There was a bossy voice drowning them all out. "-So you have to get me food. You guys look over there for food and I'll check this way for food. It's gonna be an even split. So bring them all back to me." The orange Donald strode off confidently in the direction of the Cornucopia, leaving all of the Speleologist VIIIs to search in the other directions.

Bidoof chattered angrily, glaring at Donald with a murderous glint returning to its eyes.  _ How dare you try to boss around my idiots! These are MINE!!! _

On his way to Cornucopia, Donald felt a chill run down his tiny fingers. He wasn't even aware he was being watched. All he knew was intense fear like laying in the open maw of a hippopotamus. Seriously don't do it, they could snap your spine like a twig.

The uneven faint rustling of leaves alerted Abraham Lincoln to the presence of another person nearby. Without even opening his eyes, he picked up his carved staff and bonked Batman on the jaw in warning.

Batman froze over Technoblade's prone body. He tried to glance down to ascertain how difficult it would be to take a hostage, but the staff whacked him again, this time on his bat ears.

His echolocation fucked up, Batman was no longer aware of the layout of the camp. Abraham Lincoln opened his eyes slowly and stood up, spinning his staff with practiced ease.

"Draw, you knave! You coward! You dog! Let us contest our strengths fairly and the victor shall live."

Batman shook away the concussion and flexed his muscles, preparing to attack. Abraham Lincoln gave him the first flurry for free, not even deigning to block. After that, however, he struck Batman at every pressure point with his stick, his hands, his legs, his elbows...

Who knows why he felt so protective of the sleeping Technoblade. A true man never denies his emotions, but channels them.

Abraham Lincoln's fist spoke volumes to Batman until he collapsed onto the ground shamefully.

The sixteenth US president loomed over him, stepping on Batman's back until he spat out the words, "Kill me!"

Abraham Lincoln stared at Batman, stared into his soul, and uttered two words: "Nay.  **Begone.** "

Batman drags his sorry ass away while the Entirety of the French Language's screams echoed out from the Cornucopia. Blinking in confusion, Technoblade was startled awake.


End file.
